I love our metro parks. Fort Snelling, Hidden Falls, Three Rivers, Lilydale — we have an embarrassment of natural riches, right here in the middle of the cities. Whenever I’ve been to one of these beautiful spots, I can’t help but notice one or two cars parked away from everyone else, with a man in the driver’s seat, just sitting there, slouched down low, looking guilty. If I was a betting woman, I’d bet these guys aren’t waiting for Club Run’s 20-miler. Sex or drugs, yes. Fresh air and exercise, no. The cops bust guys in these parking lots all the time. Every so often, they snag a prominent citizen and it’s all over the media. It’s creepy, it’s concerning, and it goes on and on despite the busts.
Today is a very windy day. I mean flag-snapping, branch-breaking, hair-whipping windy. I was driving home from the barn and when I drove past Lake Independence in Baker National Park, I couldn’t believe the water! The lake had white caps and…surf! I had to take some photos. I drove into the boat launch parking lot and lo and behold, there was a silver Lexus parked off by itself with a guy in a suit in the driver’s seat. No boat. You knew that. I gave Mr. Lexus a wide berth and I also gave him benefit of the doubt (generous of me, I know) since he may have just been enjoying the scenery, much like I was. When I got my camera out of the back seat and began walking towards the shore, he started his car and peeled out of the lot! Unrelated? I dunno. I was just glad he was gone.
I took photos of the lake, but I didn’t get the photo I really wanted. No, not Mr. Lexus. Two fat ladies, sunbathing. They weren’t on the beach because it was flooded, and they weren’t in the grass because it was too shady and cool. They had parked their plastic lawn chairs in a high, dry spot, right between the Dumpster and the restrooms, faces turned up to the sun and floppy hats held in place with one hand while the other waved and dipped as they talked. They were beautiful.